


Earth, Shadows and Blood

by VoidofRoses



Category: Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Slow Burn, it’s like Charmed but with three guys who aren’t related to each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidofRoses/pseuds/VoidofRoses
Summary: Finding his inheritance letter in his grandma’s things while cleaning up the farmhouse after her untimely death, Donald ventures to New Quackmore and winds up with two new roommates, an overbearing helicopter goddess, three kids, a living bear rug, and an eccentric caretaker.





	1. Moving In, Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> this sort of. evolved into its own thing. kinda like my vampire Donald au. enjoy.

Granny Elvira knew her grandchildren were witches the moment they crossed the threshold into her farm as young ducklings. Duck and Coot blood carried the gene for particular kinds of witchcraft, and Elvira herself was a master in her own way, but she could see that her grandchildren might need more convincing and some time away from the tragedies that had befallen them and caused them to come into her care.

Gladstone was the most apparent. Even as a boy, his luck was what kept him out of danger, whether it be a rampaging bull that swerved at the right time or a schoolyard bully that tripped himself up. He had the most peculiar affinity for water too, preferring to make it dance and sway to using it for any malevolent means. Sure he used it to tease his cousin Donald a bit too much, but he was handy when it came to brushing water off the roofs when it rained for several days straight.

Della was next to discover her craft, and Elvira had not known if the McDuck blood in her from her mother Hortense would cancel out the Coot/Duck blood from her father Quackmore. Always her head in the clouds and staring at the moon and stars, she was the first to accept the new changes to her life, going with the flow of things. Her cousins and many visitors adored her, and her ideas were simply inspiring. Elvira knew from the moment she saw her that she would be a great pilot some day, always playing airplanes with little Fethry or using air tricks to prank her twin brother.

Poor Donald got the short end of the stick, so to speak. He was a bit of a late bloomer - even Fethry had discovered his craft some time before him, nearly burning the shed down with his fire and his ever sunny attitude. Elvira often saw him struggling with the hay bales or cow pies before the earth would break free and his fork would fling it into the air, causing his cousins to scatter from whatever it was they were doing to avoid being hit. He was built like an ox by the time he was thirteen, muscle built up from mucking out stalls and moving hay bales into the paddocks.

She found him one day, sitting on a log after chores were done and watching his cousins and sister play in the water. Gladstone was showing off, as usual, Della and Fethry squealing and laughing as they tried to get him back together. Elvira watched the way his shoulders hunched, fingers picking at stray twigs and bark on the fallen log and, gathering her skirts around her and stepped over the log to sit down next to him. “Somethin’ on your mind, lad?”

Donald jerked a bit when he realised she’d appeared, shrinking a bit before he lowered his head, though she noticed he glanced out the corner of his eye to his kin. “…I don’t think I’m a witch like you think I am, Granny,” he finally said, toeing the grass beneath them with his webbed feet. “I don’t have water or luck like Gladstone or fire like Fethry or air like Della…I’m not special…”

“Oh my child.” Elvira sighed as she placed one hand in her lap, the other wrapping around his shoulders and tugging him close. “Witchcraft isn’t a matter of who’s special and who’s not. You don’t need to connect to an element to be a witch, nor do you need luck or anythin’ like that. You don’t even need patrons if you don’t want them.” She rubbed his shoulders with her hand. “All you need is the belief that you can.” Elvira gathered her skirts and stood, gesturing for him to follow her. “Come with me.”

She led him to the house and the kitchens, where she knelt and pulled out a thick book, setting it on the table. Donald watched her, blinking in confusion as he recognised the book – her grimoire, that she had told them not to touch. It was old, leather bound and tattered, added to over the years. “Granny…”

“Now, I’m not sayin’ you won’t grow into your craft, but in the meantime, you can help me with meals and house wards.” She smiled at him, then took his hands and gave them a pat. “Donald, you’re a strong, down to earth boy. “Nothin’ special” my ass. You mark my words, boy, you’re going to be the one that keeps this family together long after I pass.”

Donald looked like he wanted to say something, but instead pursed his beak together and hugged her, burying his face into her shoulder. “Thanks, Granny.”

“Anytime, lad. Now, what’s say we make a nice apple pie?”

———————————-

Donald stared at the cabana in front of him, backpack in hand and slung over his shoulder, letter in the other. It weighed heavily with his things, all gathered from Granny Elvira’s farm mere days ago after her passing, the grimoire at the bottom the heaviest. The letter had said something about an inheritance, found in his grandmother’s things but addressed to him, old and worn. Within the envelope had been another letter, fresher and with Granny’s handwriting.

_Donald,_

_By the time you read this, I’ll be long passed I believe. I didn’t mean to keep it from you, but you were just thirteen when Papa passed away and in no condition to inherit anything. I wanted to give you the world before you were stuck with his life’s work. It was important to Papa that I pass this on to you, and I know you can do great things. You just need to believe in yourself._

_Love  
Granny_

Well it certainly was…something. The cabana was run down in the middle of a mansion’s yard, like it had been built up around it. How long had it been standing there? Twenty? Thirty years or more? Certainly longer than he’d been alive. His great grandfather had centred his life around it for some reason, maybe something important.

“I see you decided to come after all, Mr Duck.” The voice and shadow looming over him made Donald turn, coming face to face with a woman in business clothes, shoulder pads and all. She had a clip board tucked under her arm, and she held her hand out to him. “Stephanie Graves. Your great grandfather appointed me his lawyer and holder of his last will and testament before his passing.”

“Nice to meet you?” Donald didn’t like her. She looked and sounded like the sleazy type. Had she wrestled Clinton Coot into submitting his will to her? Still, he shrugged, inclining his head. “Like I said on the phone, I only just found the letter a few weeks ago when we were cleaning out grandma’s room.”

“Ah yes. My sincere apologies for your loss.” Stephanie didn’t look apologetic, her southern drawl prominent in her voice with the rolls of her r’s. “It will be a delight to pass the cabana on to the proper owner, once the other two heirs arrive.”

Wait…he’d read something about two others, hadn’t he? “Two?” Donald asked, brow raising in slight surprise. He’d grown up with _Gladstone Gander_ as a roommate, so surely he should be able to handle two more people, no matter how…weird they might be.

“Indeed. Coming all the way from South America I believe. Of course, I will be taking care of their citizenship details as well,” she said with a small hum as she pulled her clipboard out, flipping through the papers, then checked her watch. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to show you around inside while we wait. Come along, Mr Duck.”

There was the sound of a shriek and Donald startled, nearly dropping his luggage, suddenly finding himself face to face with another bird that looked at him. He blanched at the scrutiny, the bird chittering as they looked back and forth between him and the lawyer, chirping. “Ah, this is Ari, the caretaker that your great grandfather employed,” Stephanie said, turning her attention to the strange bird and chittering back, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “And no, it can’t be fired.”

Ari tilted their head, studying him curiously and even taking out a pair of glasses to stare at him with wide eyes before they let out a call and practically hovered in the air, zipping to the front porch and slamming the door open, only to watch it fall to the patio. Another shriek was released and Donald watched in wonder as they measured, tossed and fixed up a new door within the matter of seconds.

“Wow…”

“I suppose its skills do make it a valuable asset.” Donald’s skin crawled at the way she drawled out “it”, the sound of disgust evident in her voice, remembering the way some kids used to talk about his cousins Gus or Fethry. “Now, if you are quite done, Ari, we…”

The sound of tyres screeching on the pavement made both duck and lawyer turn, watching a silver bus come to a halt at the end of the pathway to the cabana. It sounded like there was quite the loud party happening on there when the door opened, a green parrot practically stumbling off as the girls on the bus hung out the windows and cooed at him. He said something in a language that Donald only vaguely could make out, but it was enough for the girls apparently as they sighed and waved him goodbye and the bus took off again.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said as he came closer, accented English holding a charming tone. Adjusting his jacket, he took off his hat, bowing to the lawyer first, and then Donald. “José Carioca, at your service. I am to believe that I was called here from my home country on the matter of inheritance, yes?”

Stephanie fanned herself with her clipboard while Donald rolled his eyes. Gladstone came back to mind as he looked at the way José charmed her with a kiss to the back of her hand, though that would probably be a bit unfair to the parrot. He didn’t seem like an ass at least, of course that was going to have to be seen. The way his cousin used his luck to charm and con people made his blood boil, sure, but he was still family.

“An’ you must be one of the other heirs of this lovely cabana,” José said jovially, interrupting Donald’s internal monologue by taking hold of his hand and unabashedly repeating the motion that he did with Stephanie’s. Donald blanched and flushed, completely unsure of what to do before something shocked through his feathers, and he squinted a little. José seemed to realise it too, staring rather blankly at him before retrieving his hand from their clasp, rubbing it with his free one after letting his umbrella dangle from his wrist.

“Given he is a direct descendant of Clinton Coot, yes, he is considered the main heir,” she said, placing a hand on her hip and not paying attention to the looks both birds were giving each other. “Now all we have to do is wait for…”

There was a sudden shout from far above, causing them to look up at the passing airplane to see someone jump. Donald let out an alarmed quack, taking a step back, and his new roommate seemed equally shocked. They stared as though they were hoping that whoever it was would open up the parachute to slow their descent, but they just kept falling at an increasingly alarming rate. Looking out the corner of his eye, Donald could see their lawyer roll her eyes, pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh before his attention was captured by the sudden thud of a body hitting the ground, the parachute only now activating and falling like a leaf around it.

“May I introduce Mr Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Fransisco Quintero Gonzalez, the other other heir to Clinton Coot’s will,” she said, only for a hand to come out from underneath the chute and wag a finger at her.

“That’s Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez _the Third_ ,” he corrected her, sitting up from underneath the parachute and shaking his head, running the lifted hand through his comb and feathers as he stood with a small wobble. “But my friends call me Panchito.”

Donald caught the hint of a Spanish accent, watching the rooster straighten himself and lock hands with José, shaking it fast before reaching for his with his other hand, grinning from cheek to cheek. Another chill swept Donald’s body under his feathers as they shook hands, the motion stopping and the three of them exchanged looks. First José and now Panchito. He pursed his beak together and retracted his hand, wiping it against his flannel jacket with a small frown in either direction, tugging his bag closer.

“Now, gentlemen, may I present to you, the New Quackmore Institute,” Stephanie said, gesturing to the cabana behind her, and lifting her clipboard up, proceeding to read from it. “I, Clinton Coot, bequeath my life’s work and cabana to my great grandson, Donald Flauntleroy Duck, and other two descendants of the Three Caballeros, José Carioca and Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez. May you be able to continue what I couldn’t.”

“Your middle name is _Flauntleroy_?” José asked incredulously while Panchito sniggered behind his hand.

“At least I don’t have _five_ ,” the duck retorted, the snap obviously directed to the rooster, who placed his hands on his hips.

“Heyyyy, it’s tradition, and Romero, Miguel, Junipero, Francisco and Quintero are my uncles and grandfathers,” Panchito said with a frown, before he turned his head to look at the lawyer. “Anyway, _Caballeros_? I don’t think we’re knights. Or gentlemen either for that matter.” He looked at José as he said that, earning a look as the parrot pointed to his own chest innocently.

“It’s hardly my concern anymore,” Stephanie responded, handing the cabana keys over to Donald, who took them with a small huff. “Everything that happens from here on out is no longer my responsibility. I will say, though, that your neighbour has requested that any noise be kept down. This is a quiet, orderly and respectful neighbourhood. Treat it as such.”

With one last signing of documents from the three of them, she left them standing there, in the pathway to the cabana, Ari chirruping at the from the doorway and gesturing them further in. Donald sighed and adjusted his bag, squaring his shoulders.

Guess this was life now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get settled into their new home.

The cabana was bigger on the inside.

Donald recognized it as an expanding spell, similar to what Granny Elvira had used on the farmhouse when he and his cousins had turned up in her care all those years ago. He remembered her getting him to fix the wards to keep it that way when she took him under her wing, and he noted with some hesitance that it was quite stronger than the one back on the farm, older, making his tail feathers stand on end.

Looking out the corner of his eye, he could see his two roommates glancing around as well, taken in by the artefacts piled haphazardly in no quite order on every surface. Ari zipped here and there, dusting and chittering to themselves, and Donald saw them once or twice with a notepad. Taking stock? They noticed him staring and let out a shriek, making the other two cringe and hunch their shoulders, looking to him before glancing at Donald and then each other.

There was silence before Panchito spoke, holding a bejewelled golden chalice up to examine. “I didn’t think I’d run into other witches here in America.”

It was said so casually, like regular conversation about the weather, that Donald tugged his backpack over his shoulder a little tighter, hearing José laugh. “I was wondering when we were going to speak about the…ah what’s that phrase…elephant in the room.”

“Or we could just not talk about it,” Donald grumbled under his breath, poking his head into the room as the two birds behind him started talking. There was a bed somewhere under that junk, so he swung his pack off, placing it on the floor and staring. Ari dashed into the room, and in the blink of an eye gathered the artefacts off of the bed and shelves into a sack, saluted Donald, and left in just as much of a hurry. He breathed a sigh of relief. Although the cabana had been built years ago, it looked like his great-grandfather had seen sense to build enough room to house three.

Part of him wondered if it was on purpose.

He had his own space, not crammed into a three tier bunk bed with Gladstone and Fethry anymore, and he didn’t have to share with those two weirdos. Donald pulled his clothes out of his backpack, but neglected to pull out the grimoire, leaving it there at the bottom as he put the items away in a chest of drawers. He had little on him; living with Granny had taught him to live with little and be thankful for what he had. Satisfied, he closed the chest of drawers, set a photo of her and his cousins and sister on the dresser, and sat on the bed with a flop back to stare at the ceiling.

His peace was shortly lived.

“What about you?” Panchito’s head suddenly appeared in his line of vision and Donald jerked in alarm, scrambling back like a frightened cat until he stopped himself. They were looking at him expectantly, and he must’ve looked confused because the rooster repeated his question, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s your specialty?”

“With what?” Donald asked hesitantly, pressing himself against the wall the bed was propped to as José took up the end, leaning on an arm and resting his hand on a knee.

“Your magic,” the parrot said, as though the word didn’t send alarm bells in his ears. “I’ve heard America has a different style to Brazil.” José tilted his head, a small frown on his face as he took in Donald’s ‘fight or flight’ posture, recognising it. He paused, searching for his words carefully before he spoke again, taking his hat off his head. “Unless you…don’t have any?”

Donald thought about saying he didn’t. He’d spent most of his childhood waiting for it and half of his teenage years watching his cousins clown around without him while using theirs. He’d felt isolated like that, until Granny had helped him learn a few spells before his craft had kicked in. He rolled his eyes a little, huffing. “I think we all felt the ping we got when we shook hands,” he said grumpily, crossing his legs and arms, tilting his head and pursing his beak together before continuing. “Earth, and I know some kitchen stuff.”

“Oh! That’s cool, like my m’ma,” Panchito said cheerfully, taking hold of his legs behind the knees and rocking back to tilt his head to look at Donald, not paying attention to the look on his face. “I use blood,” he replied without blinking an eye.

José blinked in surprise at the both of them before he laughed, shaking his head. “My friend, you are both strange and wondrous,” he responded, shoulders vibrating with his laughter.

“If he’s so strange then what about you?” Donald couldn’t help but ask, his tone slightly snappish without realising it, even as he pointed at Panchito. “Also, that’s gross.” The rooster pouted, then leaned closer to José expectantly, rolling onto his stomach so he was half on the bed half off.

“Oh a little bit of this, a little bit of that,” the parrot responded without a pause, fixing the sleeves of his jacket and tugging at them as though miming a magician at the beginning of his act. “One of us has to keep his secrets, _meu amigos_.” Panchito and Donald exchanged a look and shrugged as José leaned back, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket and looking at them. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Not in my room,” Donald said, pointing his finger at the door and earning a tilt of the head in acquiescence. José got up, stretching his arms over his head as he walked to the entrance of the room, pulling a lighter out and leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“This is a pretty big place,” Panchito marvelled with a grin on his face as he watched José light up, turning his head back to look at Donald. “It was nice of your great grandpa to put us in his will even though he’d never met us.”

“What did that woman mean when she said _Caballero_?” the duck asked curiously, not paying attention to the way the shadows danced along the wall.

“Well, like I said, it means knight or gentleman,” he responded, waving a hand. “Roughly. There’s a couple of other meanings but those are the most common. There’s a few matadors and luchadors in my family, even some musicians, but no caballeros as far as I know, and m’ma puts _everyone_ on our _ofrenda_ on _Dia de los Muertos_.”

“…I don’t know half those words,” Donald admitted, earning a laugh from the rooster who proceeded to reach out and clap his shoulder hard.

“It’s okay! I’ll teach you, _amigo_.” Panchito rolled off the bed and stretched, long arms going over his head, nodding his head to the pictures on Donald’s dresser. “Speaking of _ofrenda_ s, I should go find my room so I can set mine up.” With a wave, he disappeared out the room and down the hall, the two hearing a whoop. “Found it!”

José chuckled from where he stood in the hallway, smoke coming out in rings from his mouth with the exhale. “He’s certainly lively, no?” he asked, tilting his head when he saw Donald glance at the photo frames, coming closer and standing in the doorway now, testing his boundaries. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Nah, forget it,” Donald said with a wave of his hand. He adjusted his jacket, frowning and then looking at José. “I’m just wondering why my great grandpa left this to me. To us, I guess? Like Panchito said, he’d never met you two, there was no reason to include you, so why…”

“Some things, my friend, are better off not being answered,” José said cryptically around his cigar, sighing softly before he leaned away, hearing a crash down the hall and a distant “I’m okay!”. “I had best find my room as well, before Panchito breaks all the beds.”

With a small wave of his fingers, the parrot left Donald alone, and he reached down to pick up his backpack. Sitting it in his lap, he pulled his grimoire out, weighing the old book in his hands. He hadn’t looked at it since Granny’s passing, and with a small sigh he opened it, finding the page that he wanted.

“ _Corner to corner in all directions, corner to corner in all sections_.”

A soft, almost baby blue glow surrounded him as he spoke, eyes filling to a darker blue before he closed them, the glow spreading across the room.

“ _Corner to corner down from sight, corner to corner heal at night_.”

Donald felt the room breathe and vibrate as though it was alive, feathers ruffling in the air around him.

“ _Corner to corner I cast protection, corner to corner for my own volition_.”

The room hummed before the glow faded and Donald opened his eyes, closing the book and tucking it underneath his mattress. His room was protected for now, he could do the rest of the incantations later when he could concentrate, because there was a voice floating down the corridor calling out to them.

“Hey, guuuuyyyyyssss, come look what I found.”

Donald hoped that he’d still have white feathers at the end of this.


End file.
